


Stories of Living

by SeverEstHolmes



Series: Heart and Music [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alcoholism, Drink, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-22
Updated: 2012-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-16 20:51:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverEstHolmes/pseuds/SeverEstHolmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson's thirst for life came borne out of the monotony and deprivation of a childhood spent looking after his alcoholic mother.<br/>Oneshot, part 8 in the "Heart & Music" Series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stories of Living

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes or anything else that the great ACD created. I also hold no rights over the BBC adaptations and additions of characters!  
> In the recent Sherlock (TV) series, the inference is that John's sister is an alcoholic - this story comes from where I think that trait might have developed from.

****

            “Just two more steps… that’s it, just one more.” John had a firm grip of his mother’s wrist and the crook of her elbow was wrapped around the back of his neck; he was holding her upright and attempting, in a rather ungainly manner, to get her up the staircase. “That’s it mum. Last step, then you can go to sleep.” John used an extra bit of strength and almost lifted his paralytic mother up the last step of the stairs. Her feet shuffled in an uncoordinated gait as she leant fully on her fifteen year old son for support. “That’s it, well done…” He panted from the effort he was having to put in.

            “Hmmmmph?” His mother blearily opened her eyes and struggled to focus on anything around her, including John. “Johnny!” She slurred in a highly surprised voice, as though she hadn’t realised he was there up to that point. “You’re a good – hic – good boy Johnny!”

            “Yeah mum, it’s bed time.” John replied routinely.

            “R-really?! Whoaa, t’days gone super fast!” She giggled as though this was the most hilarious thing in the world. John pushed his mother, still giggling, on top of the covers on her bed; and began the common occurrence of having to undress his mother and put her into bed.

            For nearly every other fifteen year old this was something that they could not comprehend – having to return home from school after a full day of classes to then look after an alcoholic mother. John would arrive home and normally have to help his mum up the stairs, undress her and put her to bed – being conscious never to let her lie on her back in case she was sick and aspirated. Once that was done, John  would sort out things for his younger sister: food, washing, housework. Then he would focus on his own school work, normally by the time he actually settled down to homework it would be after ten o’clock at night. He never got to bed before midnight and he would be up again at six to get Harriet ready for school and make her lunch… It was nothing near the typical life of a fifteen year old.

            John checked in again on his mum after he had put Harriet to bed, she was curled up under her bed clothes and snoring slightly. At least he knew she was definitely breathing.

            His mother had been wasting away slowly in front of his own eyes for the past three years, ever since his dad had left. John didn’t feel like it was right to _blame_ him, but he couldn’t help but harbour some animosity towards him for leaving them in this mess.

            Very slowly he watched the fight and life drain out of his mother as though it had poured through her eyes. After the break up she had lost her job, and then she had started to drink to fill the time that she would have normally spent at work… She became less and less interested in the world around her; less and less interested in her own children. She didn’t have a life anymore – the drink had sucked it all out of her. She had disintegrated into a wreck, completely different from the independent woman who she used to be, the one that John had grown up with. She didn’t like to leave the house anymore, she rarely washed without much prompting and nearly all of the money she received from the benefit system was spent on copious amounts of cider and vodka. It wasn’t life; it was mere existence for the sake of it.

            John could hardly wait to get away from it. He couldn’t wait to grab control of his own life by the handles and be completely in control of where he was steering. The thought of being free from the regimented existence of his current day to day situation – in which he took responsibility as carer for his mother, and parent for his sister – made the future seem a little bit more bearable. 

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to know what you think - whether you hate it or think otherwise!


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